


Off the Map

by highlyrelevantnumber (Leonora_Acker)



Series: Real Intelligence Operations [1]
Category: Body of Lies (2008)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Gen, It seems to me BoL needs a female spy in it, Middle East, Please Don't Kill Me, Post-Canon, Smarm, Spies & Secret Agents, Terrorists, You're Welcome, so I created one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonora_Acker/pseuds/highlyrelevantnumber
Summary: Hani, Roger, and their kingdom…(Set in Jordan and Cyprus, after the events of the film. Draws upon the book and film equally. An epilogue of sorts.)





	1. PART I - In Amman

In the end, he decided to stay. Roger Ferris, former CIA agent, remained home, as Hani had put it, in Amman. And, yes, despite his earlier intentions, he ended up working for Hani.

Just because Al-Saleem was in prison didn't mean they had any less work to do. Both Hani and Roger were certain the master planner terrorist had sleeper agent cells just in case, cells that– wounded as the organization might be– were now activated. To avoid having a repeat of last year's series of bombings they needed to get down to work, identify the aforementioned cells and eliminate them. In Hani's opinion, they were going to be more efficient now that they had joined forces.

Ed and his side operations still could be a problem so Roger– as the new GID operations chief– had a meeting with the new CIA chief of station, a very reasonable and easy-to-work-with woman named Tara McDowell, and requested that the GID get to pick who they want to act as liaisons. Tara had no problem on condition that she also had a say in this.

As soon as Roger got back to the GID complex, he found Hani going through lists of people whose files had been provided to him by the CIA as well as Jordan's friendly intelligence services. After briefly filling Hani in on how the meeting had gone he sat down opposite Hani and the well-dressed Jordanian handed the experienced case officer a thick folder to go through of his own.

"You know," Hani said after a long while of silence and the occasional soft noise of the turning pages. "I can't think of anyone more skillful than you to take on that role. You fulfill all the requirements. You understand the way we, the Da’irat al-Mukhabarat al-’Ammah, operate."

"You keep forgetting one thing, Hani." Roger hummed softly, not lifting his eyes from the file he was currently studying.

"Ah, of course. I understand why working with your previous employers might make you uncomfortable. And I don't wish to put you in such an unpleasant position, my dear."

Roger put the file down on the desk and turned to face Hani with an exasperated sigh. The head of the Jordanian General Intelligence Directorate was staring at him intently. "It's not just that, Hani." Roger said with what might as well be a hint of frustration. "I promised Aisha I would stay as far from the actual field as possible." At that, a deep frown formed between Hani's eyes, but he stayed silent.

"And, besides, thanks to you– no thanks, actually– Al-Saleem knew I worked for the CIA when he interrogated me. Now that I've gotten involved in the intelligence business again with potentially a whole cell of his sleepers out there, let's just not send them a special card inviting them to smash my remaining fingers, okay?" And, with that, he went back to reading.

Hani was watching him, waiting. He didn't know what exactly it was he was waiting– or perhaps hoping?– for, but he kept watching anyway. And when that unspecified thing resembling hope began to fade and subside, crushed under the weight of Roger's cold and unforgiving silence, he spoke again.

"My dear," he said, his tone slightly bitter despite himself. "you will never learn."

"Words of a wise man." Roger half-mocked him, without looking up. "Thanks for the advice, but me being here is enough proof of my stupidity, don't you think?" To emphasize the truth of his statement, he momentarily raised both his eyebrows at Hani, before resuming his work.

Hani couldn't stand his evasiveness anymore. He grabbed the file from Roger, not quite grabbed, more of prevented Roger from turning the page. If it were any other intelligence chief losing his cool during an operational disagreement, Roger wouldn't be surprised at all. But it was Hani and the closest to losing his temper Roger had seen from Hani only once: the night the safehouse was set on fire. And that alone was enough to cause Roger's attention to focus on Hani.

"What's this all about, Hani?" Roger asked impatiently, for the first time looking his interlocutor straight in the eye, the Jordanian remarked.

"As a matter of fact, _I_ should be asking the same question. You, with Ms Aisha. It can only end badly, do you not see it, my dear?" His voice held an edge of anger, but for the most part Hani spoke in the composed, precise manner he usually did. Until the resolve broke for only a moment, a moment Roger thought he could almost see through Hani's soul. "Do you not see that you can hurt a lot of people? Yes, my dear. And not just Ms Aisha. Do you not see that I..." Hani suddenly trailed off. Nevertheless, his words were uttered in a burst of emotion Roger had never before witnessed from Hani. But Hani caught himself in the last moment. He left his sentence unfinished, took a few seconds to collect himself and continued: "I am not as presumptuous as to give you advice on your personal matters. I simply enjoy working with you. Do you enjoy working with me, my dear?"

"Yes, Hani Pasha. So far you've been a good boss. Like I told you before, this is a war we will fight together. You have my word on this one." Hani agreed with an almost imperceptible nod of his head. He had no doubt he'd be fighting with Roger on his side. About other things, though, he could not be so sure.

After staying up all night and covering Hani's desk with personal questionnaire officer records, they managed to narrow their list of candidates down to only three people. All of them were exceptional and choosing one might as well be a case officer's riddle, as Roger put it. The ex-CIA officer had had the fortune of collaborating with all three at some point or other and, honestly, he wished they could pick all of them because they made a dream team. Not because they never talked back; on the contrary, because they did a lot.

Hani could have almost been fooled by his tricks if he hadn't invented this kind of games. It was the subtlest, least noticeable things that gave Roger away, despite him trying to appear neutral and play “professional”. To be more specific, it was his eyes. Hani had once heard that a person's eyes could offer you a glimpse inside their mind– all you had to do was look deep enough. From his experience in extracting information as an intelligence officer, Hani could confirm that it was for the most part true. You just had to be observative enough and look for the least guarded secrets, the obvious weaknesses, those hidden just below the surface. Roger's least well-concealed weakness was his eyes that seemed so bright they could light up the entire room. There always seemed to be some sparkle in those brown eyes– of taking in the surroundings, of devising a plan, of being confronted with failure. How American! Just...too much emotion.

Through close observation and some carefully phrased questions Hani deduced that Roger had a preference for the Italian woman, Rita Rizzo, whom he had recruited and trained personally during a short visit in the larger area of Milan. It was clear Roger knew Rita the way Hoffman or Hani might claim to know Roger– she was Roger's student and he was her teacher. Hani liked that because he trusted Roger and if Roger trusted Rita then it meant Hani could trust Rita. Of course, there were other things on her portfolio Hani would admit to be intrigued by. In fact, if he had sat down to read the files and decide by himself, the young brunette would have most likely been his choice. And the simple fact only added to the intrigue.

~*~

Tara absolutely agreed with the choice of Rita as a liaison and the Italian brunette was summoned in Amman for a meeting with the head of the Jordanian intelligence service within the week. At Queen Alia international airport, she was greeted by Roger, with Marwan keeping a close eye around the corner while Hani watched from the shadows.

Ferris hugged the short brunette and she hugged him back. It wasn't an overly affectionate gesture, but it was all that Hani needed to decipher their relationship. They were friends.

In a moment of timespace travel, Hani found himself going back to when he had a mentor himself. It all gave you a nice feeling, a certain sense of security. A good mentor talked to you about their successes but most importantly about their failures too so that you never had to repeat those. He couldn't be sure which kind of mentor Ferris was for mentors can be assessed by the skillfulness of their protégés. He had been in this profession long enough to know that a good agent didn't necessarily make for a good mentor– Hoffman, for instance, who had let Roger proceed with his little puppet show plan when in fact he should have known nobody is allowed to play in Hani Salaam's backyard like that and get away with it. Of course, in Hani's case the student had surpassed the master and that was enough reason to wear a smug face.

Hani smiled fondly at the memories, then returned to the present to watch Ferris lead Rita towards a secure lobby where Hani had arranged for her to be offered tea and cookies while she chatted with Roger. He ordered his men to treat his guest with maximum respect and make her feel comfortable, all the while clearly stating who controlled things around here. Above all, Hani Salaam knew how to be a proper Jordanian host.

Hani didn't stay any longer at the airport; he left to go back to the GID facilities. As a result, when Rita arrived escorted by Roger one and a half hours later, they were led towards a secure conference room where Hani was already waiting.

For the first half an hour it was just the three of them, Hani talking business with Rita while Roger listened and occasionally made a comment without engaging in the conversation too much. It reminded Roger of when he had first arrived in Jordan and gone to see Hani. It also reminded him of Ed's visit and that dreadful word “insa”. He did hope this meeting ended with Hani in a somewhat pleased mood. Otherwise, Rita might be packing suitcases sooner than expected. Hani had insisted on it being a short visit anyway. If they deemed her fit for the job, they would notify her via her current station, in South Africa.

"I have read your file, Ms Rizzo." Hani said in his most polite voice. "And I have to admit that Mr Ferris being listed as your recruiter was the least interesting piece of information I found on there. Do you mind refreshing my memory on some of the most interesting ones? I have a rather poor memory, you see."

Roger had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at that. He would bet money on Hani having memorized the whole damn file or at least having read it enough times to remember details. But he was pretty convincing in putting on the sincerely-truly-deeply-apologetic act; Roger would have to give him that.

Nevertheless, he could see Rita trying to beat Hani in his own game using the same tricks he used and he couldn't say he completely disliked that. She smiled a small smile, just condescending enough, as if she was in all actuality willing to believe Hani to be the most forgetful person on earth, before beginning to provide the requested information. There was a reason why Roger had left her studies in psychology out of her file and he was now curious whether Hani would pick up on that.

"It's okay." she said. "I understand high-responsibility positions come with more paperwork and a less clear head."

Roger sensed Hani shift in his chair. He wondered whether Rita was indirectly referring to Hoffman or one of the other division heads. Was she trying to get a message across to Hani?

"As you probably know, I was recruited in Italy. I received training at the CIA training center and was then sent to South Africa because I knew proficiency-level Dutch and the language is basically mutually intelligible to Afrikaans. Although I had been to the country before, when I was not affiliated with the Agency."

"The Subsaharan Africa Division, correct?" Rita nodded affirmatively, suppressing a grin. She was turning the tables on Hani in his own game, that's what she did. Roger was half-sure she had practically evaluated his IQ by now. "What did you do there?"

"Well, I suppose you've heard of mercenaries and private military companies operating in that region."

"As a matter of fact, yes. Many of the same contractors actually operate quite close to us: in Iraq, for example."

Rita nodded, her lips curving into a tight, approving smile. Like the two men opposite her, she appreciated an intelligence chief whose knowledge extended beyond just their own country and its nextdoor neighbors.

"My mission" she continued "was to infiltrate one such organization as a deep undercover, with the ultimate goal of bringing it down from the inside."

At her words, Hani's lips began to part into a contained but satisfied smile. He was beginning to like her. To Roger's mind, there were only two outcomes a partnership like this could result in: glory or disaster. For a brief amount of time, he had had the luck of tasting the former. Then, the latter had washed over him like the cold rain.

"So, you understand the need for informants and patience? The need to plant eyes and ears– human eyes and ears– within the enemy organization?"

"Absolutely."

The pair had some sort of operational tactics chemistry. _Great minds think alike_, Ferris thought. For the most part, it was promisingly frightening. However, in a way, it was ridiculous, too. Ferris had to discretely cough into his fist to stop himself from laughing.

"Do you want to add something, Mr Ferris?" Hani's voice was serious, with a well-concealed undertone of amusement, nonetheless.

Ferris forced himself to get serious again, before replying in a solemn voice of his own. Rita could see Hani was not playing this game alone. She wondered just what kind of relationship the two boys had.

"I just wanted to say that Rita would not have much trouble adapting to the way of doing things we work by here. She's been taking classes in Arabic for a year now. She has handled confidential informants before. Pitched them, developed them, run them. She understands the method."

Rita smiled, her smile sweet only on the outside. "Does Ed Hoffman understand that for said methods to bear fruit he needs to keep his nose out of the operation and let you run it?"

The silence that followed was an awkward and intense one. Hani's expression darkened and he looked sideways at Roger, who didn't risk glancing back, knowing exactly what Rita was talking about this time. He could feel the suspicion rising inside of Hani's head, threatening to take other dimensions too. Although this one was a highly classified mess-up of Hoffman's (one more added to the list), he regretted leaving that out of her file too. Luckily for him, though, Rita decided to explain, saving Roger from being made to do it himself.

"I was reassigned in Iraq. After South Africa, for only a brief amount of time. You won't find any mention of it in the files, of course." She paused, as if hesitating.

"If you tell me, it will not leave this room." Hani coaxed her into continuing.

"You could ask Roger, he knows all the details."

Hani didn't even look at Roger. "I suppose he could, but he was not the one whom I was asking."

"I was shot." she replied abruptly. "Courtesy of Ed Hoffman. I was nearly killed the day after I arrived. Roger came to my rescue. I practically owe your _dear Mr Ferris_ my life."

They all let a moment of silence hang between them.

"I cannot promise you that you will never get shot." Hani said in a kind tone Roger had rarely heard from him. "What I can, however, assure you of is that Ed Hoffman has agreed to stay out of my business for some time."

"I hope he does. Either way, I wouldn't be working for Ed Hoffman, would I?" It was said with her ever-present, trademark smile.

There was a hint of wicked implication to her voice reflected in the glow of her eyes that made Hani _really_ like her.

Tara arrived shortly afterwards and, like Hani, it didn't take long for her to warm up to Rita. Roger felt a sense of inner triumph at that. They talked for forty five more minutes, before Rita left for the hotel where she was to be staying and Tara accompanied her. They rode on a US Embassy car, a guard seated next to the driver just in case, but Hani sent one of his own security cars as escort anyway.

~*~

The next morning, Rita visited the CIA Station operating out of the 4th floor in the US Embassy building. They discussed matters with Tara for about an hour, before Roger came in to inform them that Hani had spoken on the phone with the Head of the Near East Division about his intention of enlisting Rita, to which the latter had raised no argument.

Rita accepted her new position that same day, asking to be given a week's time in order to tie up some loose ends before returning to assume her duties in Amman. They signed a few papers– a significantly lesser amount of what would normally be required for a reposting, as Rita, due to her injury and subsequent lengthy recovery, wasn't really stationed anywhere. For bureaucratic reasons, though, she was still listed as an active case officer on the Cape Town Station records– with only a brief mention of her top-secret “temporary reassignment” in Iraq. Roger knew there would be more paperwork to complete once Rita was back to stay and didn't bother to contain a sigh of exasperation at the Agency's lack of efficiency as Rita handed him back his pen, one he'd permanently “borrowed” from Hani.

Afterwards, they got in separate cars, Roger heading back to GID Headquarters and Rita to be dropped off at the airport. Seconds before parting ways for what they both had a feeling was one of the very last times in their careers, Roger took his student's smaller hand in his, squeezing it encouragingly. She stared down at their joined hands. They'd been friends for so long that touching was as much a part of their communication code as eye contact and grimaces were.

"You're gonna like the desert, trust me." he said, looking up just in time to see her smile.

~*~


	2. PART I - Earn her Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just checking and I realized it's been 25 days since I posted the first chapter... 25?!  
(Go on, enjoy the new chapter while I rant about my exhausting life and have a breakdown...)

Winning back Aisha's heart proved to be a little tougher than Roger had anticipated. Getting ready for his big date with Aisha, where he'd decided he would propose, he tried not to set his hopes too high. She had already turned him down twice and, despite all the literal charm he was putting on for tonight, he doubted “third time's the charm” could work with Aisha. Looking himself into the full-body mirror in Hani's vast dressing room, he doubted fancy clothes was even _his_ kind of charm.

Nevertheless, for some reason that was utterly and completely beyond him, Hani had volunteered to “make him somewhat presentable”– _Ouch, Hani, that hurt!_– and, as if this wasn't already enough, the universe had decided that Rita– who was turned off by romantic relationships and dates to the same extent as Roger hated strawberries– should come along “to prepare him psychologically”.

"That looks nice on you, my dear." Hani commented, walking into the room as Roger was straightening his tie– well, Hani's tie, to be precise.

"You think so?" Roger asked, still looking into the mirror, seeming unconvinced.

Hani laughed reassuringly. "Of course. Have I ever lied to you, my dear?"

"Well, if making innuendos still counts..." Rita chimed in, leaning against the doorframe "then you are in this very instant."

Hani's tone while replying was patronizing. "Oh, my dear Rita, I would never have guessed you were a psychologist if you had not told me! For the life of me, I cannot possibly fathom why Mr Ferris thought it a good idea to keep that from me."

"Details." Roger dismissed his snarky remark, feeling around his jacket pockets to make sure he had the ring.

"I can help you find a better one if you wish." Hani offered "One that has a diamond on it."

"Jesus!" cursed Rita, before disappearing into Hani's palace. She'd spent enough time trying to curb the trade in blood diamonds to be entitled to taking personal offense in Hani's tastes when it came to stones.

Roger cast his gaze on Hani, a mixture of annoyance and amusement reflected in his expression. Hani shrugged.

"You know, people like you are the reason why I ditched psychology long ago." Rita ruined their little moment– or, more accurately, Hani's moment with Roger– by returning into the room, which could only be explained as her having teleported, unless she hadn't been wandering that far in the first place. Glaring at both of them, she added: "Roger, you're gonna be late."

"I was just out the door."

"Hardly."

Leaning towards Roger, Hani whispered (still loud enough for her to hear): "She reminds me of my mother." Roger laughed. Rita had a tendency to act like everyone's mother. Perhaps, Roger mused, she was acting more like their therapist. Not that he was ever going to say that aloud– not within her death-glare firing range, at any rate. The look she gave Hani, on the other hand, was the closest to a warning the Jordanian would ever receive from another person– especially someone lower in the ranks.

"Come on," Roger soothed as they passed room after room after room endlessly, Rita and he walking side by side behind the pasha "didn't you shoot the Big Bad and Scary in the end?"

"Not exactly. My weapon backfired during the struggle. It was my associate who shot him in the leg. The two had past bills to settle."

Finally, Hani led them out through the back entrance and into the security-heavy, private parking area where Roger had left his black BMW less than a couple of hours ago. Rita had a white car, parked in the back of the lot. A dozen more cars, belonging to security personnel, servants, and even Hani himself, lay immobile all around, as if in some sort of dealership.

"We crippled him, Roger, his eye and his leg, can you imagine?"

"Hm." He didn't need an imagination for that. It was part of what he did for a living.

Darkness had fallen. Bright stars and a clear sky were overlooking Amman. The night breeze was refreshingly cold– just enough for Roger to have an excuse to drape his jacket over Aisha's shoulders should she forgot her own. Then, it hit him.

Killing was something Aisha, caring and peaceful and loving Aisha, would never come to view as justified. Not that words like “killing”, “torture”, “interrogation” or their synonyms were ever included in the description whenever she pried about his job.

Placing more weight on his bad leg than he intended to, he felt a sharp stab of pain run through his leg and hissed. Hani moved swiftly to offer Roger his arm as support so that his friend could stretch his leg a little and regain his footing. "The ice!" Rita remembered in a panic "We forgot the ice!"

"Is it getting worse, my dear?" Hani asked suspiciously, causing Rita to frown with worry.

"No," Roger made an attempt at shrugging it off with a dismissive wave of his hand, (He sounded out of breath.) "no, it's fine. Maybe not completely fine but fine."

In fact, it was the opposite of ‘fine’. His leg had been nearly shattered to pieces that day in Balad and it was a miracle he hadn't lost it. He'd made a quick recovery before being appointed Chief of Station in Amman. While developing his big plan, physical therapy seemed to be doing wonders– or maybe it was just the fact that things were finally going his way. But that was before he ended up in the clutches of the enemy and was subjected to brutal interrogation. For his leg, things went only downhill from there. The doctors weren't giving any hope that it would be getting better in the future and, although he still went to physical therapy, it wasn't helping much.

"You should have someone look at it."

"Thank you, Hani. Now that Rita is convinced there's no point in shooting my already damaged leg, I will."

"I could shoot the undamaged one, you know. You still have two legs."

"I'm afraid they're both reserved for Aisha, then."

"Mmm, I see."

They were teasing each other in such a lame fashion Hani wasn't even bothering to tell them they weren't funny at all or otherwise chastise them for it. He wished Roger luck, then turned and left. Hani had never been a man of many words, anyway– especially when he deemed there was nothing more to be said.

At least, Roger hoped it was the saucy subject of the conversation that upset the Jordanian instead of something _he_ had done. It was strange how Hani would become uneasy every time Aisha's name was mentioned. Roger assumed it was because Hani feared the former CIA man might prioritize personal affairs over the job, but Roger had resolved to never let that happen (not again, that is).

Roger unlocked his car and got inside. Before turning to go, he lowered the window on the driver's side, the engine still on. Rita approached.

"You were saying something?" he asked softly, guessing that she would like to finish her story.

"He got away, the bad guy." Rita spoke quietly, but Roger could feel the emotion bubbling underneath. "Sometimes, I wonder where he is." She glanced down at her clasped hands, then back up at him and off deep into the darkness. Her eyes focused on him again. "But then I tell myself that a guy like him– walking on a crutch, half-blind, and most wanted– couldn't have made it very far."

Her words reminded Roger of his own chase of Al-Saleem. He had a very good idea of how far this kind of people could go without surfacing.

Rita stared at the direction Roger was about to head, as if the road ahead might reveal something to her. Perhaps she was searching for Hani, but he had already left and so was Roger doing in regard to his warrior ethic– only to discover it was somewhere deep into the darkness, buried under his and Hoffman's failures and covered in dust and blood. So, he decided he wasn't going to give her any of that. A few years back, he would most probably have, but times had changed, lives had been lost, and he had gotten older, in both the job and years, possibly wiser even.

He could see clouds gathering on the horizon. Al-Saleem's contingency– Roger knew the master planner terrorist was too clever to not have one– was about to sweep through like a hurricane and dizzy every intelligence agency on the face of the planet with its spiraling until all that was left would be smithereens in its wake. He didn't want to scare her but he couldn't afford her being stuck in past failures either. They had work to do (and they could still use some leftover warrior ethic if this meant they could achieve better results).

"Whatever the case," he was choosing his words carefully, "it's the South Africans' problem to deal with. There's a storm coming and I need you focused on this mission, okay, Rita?"

She nodded, taking in every word and no doubt, Roger thought, storing it in memory for later use.

"Okay."

It'd been a while since things went according to plan for Roger. After leaving Hani's, he went to pick up Aisha from her apartment– for the first time receiving only a scowl from Cala and a reminder to bring her sister home early instead of a lecture.

The restaurant they dined in had been recommended by Hani so Roger had little doubt it would prove anything less than perfect. Aisha seemed to be in a remarkably cheerful mood tonight so there was joking and laughing throughout– which he preferred to having to answer endless questions about his secret life, which, in turn, did nothing except generate more questions. He had decided he would propose over dessert– they had vanilla and chocolate cake– and, considering how well things had played out up until now, there was no reason to revise his strategy.

It took Aisha a few moments to realize what was going on– he, in fact, would propose from time to time, only for her to state - explicitly or less explicitly - that she wasn't ready to trust him this way yet. He winced because of his bad leg while getting down on his knees, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Not tonight. He opened his heart up to her– something he rarely did, his profession and the world he lived in had taught him better than that– and, when he had finally concluded his short but meaningful speech, he revealed the ring, asking: "Will you marry me?"

The ring was the same as all the previous times, but who cares, because this time she said yes and that gave him– finally– the right to put it on her finger. Yes, him having _earned_ her love, having earned the _right_ to be loved by her, as Hani had predicted, made this all the more sweet and important. Her laughter was of the pure happiness variety– she was younger than him and, in certain ways, far too innocent; there was something in the way her eyes shone with quiet intelligence that never failed to amaze Roger.

This moment– her giggle that brought a smile to his lips, the brush of skin against skin while he slid on the ring, the promise of spending a lifetime together– this moment was one he would cherish for darker rooms and significantly darker situations, when being with her would seem close to impossible.

~*~

Their wedding took place in the spring. His colleagues took the liberty of surprising Roger by arranging for his mother to be in attendance. Although he had to admit being dragged to the airport and reuniting with his mother after years of sporadic phone calls and Christmas cards– and then having to deal with the excessive display of sentimentalism that came with this on his mother's side– was not the most pleasant surprise for a former Chief of Station. Not to mention he didn't think it was safe, no matter how much Hani kept insisting on the opposite.

Anyway, it wasn't like he was going to complain. He wanted his mother there on such an important day. He just wished he could avoid her questions, which he could not provide the answers to, and being told with a sigh that he wasn't a bad son, she was sure he had his reasons. Nevertheless, the fact that those reasons stretched well beyond him and his clearances did little to disguise the fact that he _was_ a bad son.

Admittedly, Aisha's side of the family was much larger than Roger's, despite the fact that half her relatives were still in Iran and therefore couldn't attend. Still, a Jordanian wedding with only a handful of relatives doesn't qualify as a typical Jordanian wedding, so Hani again took the initiative of “adding” a few members to Roger's side of the family to save him the emotional pain of feeling inferior and quite possibly the mockery from the real Jordanians. Naturally, Roger was far from happy with Hani for inviting one third of the Near East Division and half the GID under fake identities of his fictitious “relatives”.

Of course, when he went to confront Hani on the matter, the intelligence “king” attributed the overflowing presence of agents at the event to Ferris's role in his organization, always with the smallest hint of a smirk, leaving Roger no option other than to go along with his current employer's quirks. His time was more productively spent on lecturing his subordinates about how they should maintain their cover at all times, adhere to the social script for such occasions, and definitely **not** turn the wedding reception into a competition of who could better maintain their cover while drunk.

Through a mixture of blind fortune and Hani's games, Rita got one of the most fun fake identities available– that of a cousin employed in the field of research psychology, currently doing additional studies in Italy. Having known her long enough, Roger was sure this was the only part of the wedding she was actually going to enjoy and mostly he didn't mind. Although the likelihood of his colleague turning this into some kind of social experiment and messing with the guests' inner world in an attempt to fight off the lack of intellectual stimulation did terrify him a bit– something reminiscent of Milgram's or Zimbardo's infamous experiments, only leaning towards the psy ops end of the spectrum. He sincerely hoped Hani hadn't poured so much creativity into his every relative's personality because then they would all really look like weirdos. (Something Roger was not entirely sure Hani wasn't trying to do, but let's give him the benefit of the doubt...)

Whatever the case, the idea behind a wedding is that it should be fun and memorable. And this, Roger and Aisha's, in all its unconventional ways, was. Even Rita was enjoying the hell out of her social experiment, agreeing to even dance after Roger's leg had forced him and his bride to retire. "Go, lead the dabke, my dear." Hani said, handing her his handkerchief, which matched his tie in color. "I am confident your extraordinary abilities will daze both watchers and dancers." The smile she flashed him was one meant to convey she never said no to a challenge.

Thinking back, Roger couldn't help but note Hani had remained quiet from the start of the ceremony to the end of the party. Something with which Roger was fine if not grateful for– it was his and Aisha's big night after all, Hani wasn't supposed to star. Which just didn't add up given Hani's annoying tendency of demanding to assume the lead role in everything he was a part of and steal the show that was not his to run in the first place. Maybe he could have had some interesting interactions with his boss should he have chosen to pay some attention but he was too drunk in happiness to even notice.

Rita, on the other hand, whose social experiment Hani had– unbeknownst to him– become the focus of, had paid enough attention to not miss a thing. Not that it was particularly hard given Hani's miserable expression. "Just because Roger doesn't see it doesn't mean it isn't there." she said, sitting down in the chair next to the pasha, who was absentmindedly sipping on his drink, before adding: "Seriously, Hani, one doesn't have to be a psychologist to realize what a scowling mess you are." Then, she stood up to return to the dancing floor.

Hani took another sip, then snorted into his glass. A mess, that was a word he reserved for the Americans and their disastrous interferences. Until Roger found a way into his heart and managed to tear it right out. And here Hani thought he, as the undisputed king, the great pasha, the smarter chess player, **he** couldn't be penetrated. He was wrong. He had underestimated how much power Roger Ferris had over him.

~*~

Roger and Aisha were sitting in Cala's living room with Cala and her sons, after they'd finished having dinner. Cala had asked for her sister's help with the dishes, leaving Roger to spend some quality time with his nephews. (Aisha always found it difficult to suppress the smile that crept to her lips every time she heard him call them his nephews, mainly due to the fact that he was doing it subconsciously, which made his out-of-character sweetness even cuter.)

They had a toy car that needed fixing and they brought it to Roger to inspect, closely watching his every move while he worked, all the while engaging in enthusiastic conversation– much to their mother's chagrin, who kept ordering them to finish their homework, say goodnight to the couple, and go to bed. Roger, being the diplomat and having spent enough time bargaining with Hani, had managed to give them ten more minutes that gradually turned into an hour.

The couple had been married for four months at this point and Cala had been discretely (and, at certain times, not so much) trying to find out whether there was a niece or nephew for her in the making. Roger and, especially, Aisha found her interest in their family plans to be well-meant but invasive, nonetheless. Tonight was no different so, once they'd sat down on the couch, Cala had started her questioning.

"Are you thinking of moving to America?"

"Why would we?" Aisha wondered.

Cala shrugged. "I'm simply asking out of curiosity. You know, better healthcare, better schools. Not all of us had the fortune of marrying an American, but, since you did, it gives you a lot of choices when it comes to having a baby."

Roger and Aisha exchanged a knowing glance, before, he, very carefully choosing his phrasing, replied for both of them: "I'm sure, whenever that happens, healthcare services in Jordan will suffice." Cala graced him with an overly sweet smile, then simply ignored him. Apparently, she didn't think that, being a man, he knew enough about this kind of things and Roger couldn't say he did so he went back to fixing the car.

"By the way," Cala refocused her attention on Aisha, "how are you feeling this week? Has the stomach flu passed?"

Aisha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Cala, it was just that, the stomach flu. It's over now and I'm well again."

"Oh, I see. Despite how progressive of a couple you may want to appear, Roger is going to have the last word on this one. Or should I say the job he can't talk to us about?"

"Cala..."

The tension was building up in the room and Roger had to remind himself why snapping at Cala was a bad idea. He knew two sets of curious, brown eyes were watching him intently, anticipating his next move. Damn, it was hard being a non-blood related uncle, imagine being a father.

He smiled, not hesitating to make eye contact. "You're right, I can't talk to you about my job. I can't talk to Aisha, either. I assure you it has nothing to do with how much I trust or respect you. Trust me when I say it's for your own safety."

Cala's burning gaze softened a bit. Her tone of voice was also less accusatory. "Then, why don't you and Aisha start your own family? Considering that you like children so much?"

Roger laughed a little. "You know, Cala, the only problem with you being such a great parent is that you set the standards for everyone else pretty high. For this reason, I'm gonna have to ask for your understanding on the matter." His sister-in-law couldn't help but blush at the compliment.

At the beginning of their relationship, while they were still getting to know each other, he'd made some terrible mistakes (like holding that guy from Mu'tah at gunpoint). He still did sometimes and, despite her best intentions, she occasionally caught herself yelling at him about what she considered to be some very poor life choices. However, in that moment, Aisha decided that should she ever had kids, she wanted Roger to be their father.

Later, once they'd gotten inside their apartment, Aisha surprised her husband with a question. "Do you like kids?" There was no light in the apartment except for a few rays coming from the city lights, outside. Roger turned around to face her, realizing that she was now leaning against the door, which he'd just shut and locked behind them.

He took a couple of steps towards her. "Well," he said, voice filled with innuendo and fingertips on her hips, burning her skin even through her clothes, "I do, most of the time." He moved forward, effectively closing the already small gap between them. She welcomed his move by wrapping her arms around his neck. Her cheeks were burning and she struggled not to moan with the barest touch. But Roger didn't go any further, he was going to leave the first definitive move to her.

Their breath caught in their throats and their hearts were pounding in anticipation. Staring into his eyes, she leaned in and kissed him. Roger deepened the kiss and she bit down on his bottom lip, inviting him to leave her breathless. They could do with some air, but neither wanted to break apart. Her fingers hovered over his shirt buttons while one of his hands was supporting her back and the other was firmly planted on her hip.

He was going to pick her up and carry her over to their bedroom, where they could do this properly, when, suddenly, his cell phone buzzed. The sigh his wife let out the moment he pulled back was closer to a whimper and she did look a bit disappointed. _Hani and his impeccable timing_, Roger internally cursed his boss.

However, when duty calls and you're a member of one of the most well-organized intelligence services in the world, you have no choice but to pick up.

Roger fumbled in his jacket pocket, retrieving the phone, before excusing himself to go in the kitchen to talk more privately. Aisha heard him inquire to know what had happened before saying: "On my way."

When he returned in the hallway, Aisha was standing by the door, ready to open it for him for what had a very real possibility of being the last time and close it behind him, remaining alone inside.

"I don't want to end up like Cala. Alone, with a child to raise." she confessed in a small, wavery voice.

Roger stared at her in sympathy for a moment. He really didn't know what to say to her to soothe her fears. "You won't, I promise." he reassured her, kissing her cheek with affection, before he left for the GID complex.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Who do you think the Big Bad and Scary and Rita's associate are? Can you guess which movie they're from? Whoever finds that, gets a virtual cookie!
> 
> 2) Hani always stealing the show is– of course– a reference to Mark Strong stealing the show from the other stars in the BoL cast with his exquisite performance as Hani.
> 
> 3) Roger holding a guy at gunpoint in front of Aisha happened in [Deleted Scene #3: Crossing the Line](https://youtu.be/qNGqlP8-Hbs).
> 
> 4) Comments/ kudos are like flowers. They're beautiful and I love them all!


	3. PART II - Chapter 1 (1/2) - From the Ashes

"1:36:43 am." Roger was standing next to the projection board in the GID main conference room, pointing at the grainy, black-and-white, zoomed-in footage from an NSA satellite currently being displayed. "A bomb goes off in downtown Amman." Roger paused, directing his attention to the video, along with the rest. On the board, there was a sudden flash of light, then smithereens flying everywhere and people scattering about. The image froze and Roger resumed talking. "Thankfully, there were no victims, only a dozen injured, none of them seriously."

"Two hours later and no claim has been made yet," Hani spoke from his seat at the head of the table, on the far end of the room, without moving to join Roger. On his right, Tara was glancing between her own handwritten notes and her laptop screen, trying to make the connections in her head while following NSA updates. Rita, who was seated further down the large desk from the current CIA Chief of Station, seemed a lot less interested, calmly blowing on a steaming papercup of hot chocolate, which she held with both her hands, her pale pink lips touching the rim and staining it with lipstick. Skip was next to her, lack of sleep and exhaustion obvious in his facial features and slumped-back posture. Roger was happy to be working with him again but couldn't help feeling annoyed every time Skip opened his mouth in an epic, prehistoric-mammoth-style yawn, without exhibiting good manners and using his hand as cover. Needless to say, this earned him multiple life-threatening glares from Hani, not that Skip had a clear enough head to notice. _The fun part of summoning the A-Team for a meeting at three in the morning_, Roger thought.

"But you have an idea, don't you?" Tara broke the quiet, finally lifting her eyes from the assortment of documents in front of her, both physical and electronic. Hani always preferred being asked first before offering any answers. Especially when Americans were concerned. He might like Tara– almost as much as he likes Roger or Rita– but in his kingdom _he_ is the king. Because the simple fact is Hani _owns_ Jordan. He knows his country like the back of his palm and he rules it in whatever way he deems best– no advice from intrusive outsiders needed. "You have an idea about who's behind this, don't you, Hani?" Tara repeated her question, modifying the vague parts, not so much for clarity as to acknowledge Hani's rulership. Instantly, like she had predicted, his lips curled upwards and his face radiated self-satisfaction with such intensity that it could be compared only to the brightness of the sun, which had not yet risen. That was the thing about Hani: as long as you were loyal to him, he would keep you safe under his watch; if you betrayed his trust, he would strike you with lightning and watch while you burned, cold and unflinching.

Hani sat back in his chair, the motion filled with equal amounts of elegance and authority. He lit a cigar, took a long drag of it, then released a cloud of grey smoke into the air. Rita wrinkled her nose in disgust, the only person in the room whose eyes weren't glued to Hani. As much as she liked Hani, she hated smoking, and therefore she hated _him_ when he smoked. (Aisha hated smoking too but she didn't have to scold her husband for it since Roger had never really taken up the habit. One less thing to quarrel about in their marriage. As for Hani's wife and her opinion on the matter as well as other matters, Roger couldn't know for Hani rarely talked about her.)

"Indeed," Hani replied to Tara, watching the cloud dissolve, ash falling to the ground, like dust after a sandstorm, "the Mukhabarat knows."

"A new player?"

"A rather old one, with a new structure. We have injured the beast and it has now retreated to its cave, licking its wounds and plotting for revenge." He paused, taking another deep drag. Thick smoke floated into the air as he spoke: "The dying song of Al-Saleem's organization."

The mention of the name alone held enough weight to it to make the majority of the people present squirm in their seats.

"Al-Saleem's in prison," Rita stated matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead while taking a small, slow sip of her now lukewarm chocolate.

It required a significant amount of effort on Roger's part not to yell at his former protégé for her mostly pointless remark that added less than nothing to the conversation. However, he wasn't willing to put any amount of effort towards resisting the urge to snap at her. "Realization hit you? Well, thank you for sharing your feelings with us but we're not talking about Al-Saleem here. Come on, Rita, where's your head today?"

Her retort was meant to cut deep. "Must've left it on my pillow, sorry." Roger rolled his eyes. He had to admit that nobody was functioning at this early hour, himself included. Except, of course, for Hani.

Rita glanced at the Jordanian Intelligence Chief, her way of telling him he needed to take control of the situation. Roger folded his arms over his chest, waiting for what his superior had to say. There was a reason why Hani was called 'the pasha'; he was royalty in his own way, he'd earned the title. The self-proclaimed king of intelligence took a long drag off his cigar to match Rita's slow sipping of chocolate, then motioned for Roger to sit down. The American obeyed him, taking the seat opposite his superior. Rita ignored him. Roger took her pen. She glared at him, but it was his turn to ignore her.

"Indeed, my dear Rita," Hani spoke calmly, "Al-Saleem is in no position to cause any more harm than he already has. Nor is he able to communicate with his companions from where I have put him. The Mukhabarat believes that today's attack is part of another plan..." Hani locked eyes with Roger, across the table. "... a contingency."

~*~

It took some time to put a face to the contingency. First, they compiled a list of potential safehouses and other places in Jordan they knew Al-Saleem had ties to. Nothing came in and went out of the country without the GID and their allies knowing. Tara was very helpful, providing NSA and satellite intercepts as well as other information. Unlike Ed, she didn't insist on running the operation jointly and let Hani be in charge, after he refused to make it a joint undertaking the first time she asked.

Within the week they had the location of a previously unknown safehouse in Zarqa. From now on, this large safehouse would be monitored along with a few smaller ones. Both GID and CIA agents, Rita and Skip, with Roger overseeing, were sent to check out those places and decide which one they would establish permanent surveillance on. Before long, they had managed to uncover a small number of new cells– some had just been operating under their radar before Al-Saleem was caught, while the rest seemed to have formed only recently.

Marwan's team had a rather interesting encounter in one of the places they went. Although the ensuing gunfight rendered a GID car no longer usable and the safehouse had vanished before the Jordanian special forces arrived, Marwan's men chased a hostile agent in the surrounding area and captured him.

Roger made a conscious effort to keep a neutral expression while reading the report of the particular incident. Hani didn't appear exactly satisfied with the turn of events– considering there now was no safehouse to surveil, at least part of the operation had been revealed to the enemy, and it was a given fact that the terrorists would try to cover their tracks better in the future. Nevertheless, when he invited his operations chief to go fishing with him, he didn't seem entirely displeased either.

Roger didn't know what he thought when he first heard of Hani's prison. What he could, however, verify now with absolute certainty was that it was much worse than a fingernail factory. Perhaps not as barbaric as its CIA version, but interrogation was the part of his job he tended to least enjoy. Hani had made him watch the whipping of a prisoner once– punishment he called it– and Roger had felt so uncomfortable he made to turn away. Hani had stopped him, of course, by placing his hand, heavy and firm, on Roger's shoulder. _Keep watching. Report what you have seen._

Ferris knew Rita had briefly worked as a Psy Ops specialist and Black Ops interrogator not so long ago but he never felt particularly inclined to ask. Not because he was too soft; on the contrary, because he knew the world he lived and worked in too well to need to ask. Like Hani's detention center, it was unwelcomingly dark– not even a ray of light shining through–, with endless corridors, filled with cold air and foul smells, muffled screams echoing in the background. That was it, once you got in, you never got out.

Roger had witnessed the death of a detainee in his hands while he was stationed in Yemen. He had ordered the interrogation, so when it got too violent he didn't attempt to stop it because he was still confident that the method would get him his results. He ended up with no information and blood on his hands. Neither the first nor the last time he was completely or to a lesser extent responsible for a death (he had executed many assets on the field to prevent them from being captured in addition to having partaken in other interrogations) but this was the one that stood out more vividly in his mind.

Hoffman had made it go away from the papers, not that it made Roger feel any less _bad_. No, in their line of work, feeling bad about your actions, no matter how inhumane they may be, doesn't automatically equal remorse or guilt. If you asked them, most of them would tend to dismiss it as a side effect of the job. (In fact, he had confided in Rita once about the Yemen incident– too many drugs and a serious injury– and she had remained frighteningly calm during his narration. Afterwards, she had stood up from her seat next to his bedside, patted his knee, and said with a small sigh: "Well, you were doing your job. It was not your intention, but sometimes jobs go wrong. Not your fault, really".) He wonders whether Rita feels bad about some aspects of the job too, but discussing their work in detail is not advised and besides he's not sure he'd get an honest reply if he tried. Maybe his reasoning is flawed, maybe his code is flawed. But it's too late to go back now, he's already crossed the threshold.

The two guards at the entrance shut the heavy metallic door behind them, letting them inside a tiny room with only a small table and a couple of chairs, a screen and a microphone, and a one-way mirror, behind which there was an interrogation room– a large metallic table in the middle with two chairs on opposite sides of it– with a man in it. Hani extended his arm in a regal gesture, inviting Roger to get comfortable in one of the chairs. He, then, reached across the table and turned on the sound on the microphone, before standing in front of the second door– the one between this room and the interrogation room– and waiting for one of the guards, who was now fumbling with his keys, to unlock it.

Seconds before stepping inside the other room, Hani turned his head to look at Roger, a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth slightly and smugness radiating from his face. He had an aura of absolute authority about him. Deep down, Roger pitied the prisoner, having seen almost every last of Hani's darkest shades as well as manipulation tricks. There was no withholding from Hani. "Watch how you catch the big fish, my dear. Watch and learn."

Hani did nothing that first day. Or so it seemed to Roger. Hani didn't talk to the prisoner, didn't look at him, paid no attention to him or his existence at all. He simply paced around the room leisurely, as if taking a late-evening stroll in his garden. Roger had to give it to the Jordanian, the man had invented his own kind of royalty.

The current GID operations chief could tell by instinct his boss was aware every time the prisoner risked a sideways glance at him. Everyone in Jordan knew who Hani Salaam was and Hani Salaam might as well claim to know everyone who lived, breathed, and moved in Jordan. From his own experience, Roger knew Hani was keeping the other man in his eyesight with just the corners of his eyes, without needing to turn his head. After a while, Hani exited the room.

"What the hell kind of mind games were you playing with his head back there?" Roger asked Hani while in the elevator on their ride back to the ground floor of one of the secondary buildings in the GID complex.

"You cannot break a rock with another rock, my dear," Hani replied evenly, pressing the button to select their destination.

"So you're gonna let him crack along the surface until he breaks into a hundred pieces?"

"Yes. With one difference. I will twist his perception of his world so much he will inevitably start questioning everything. He will not be able to distinguish the grains of truth I give him from the lies."

"Sounds like a plan." It was uttered with no excessive amount of enthusiasm, merely as a vote of confidence.

"I assure you, it is a well thought-out plan, my dear." Hani was practically unable to suppress his grin at this point. "The method has been tested quite a handful of times before and found to be efficient. All you need for it to work is patience."

The elevator doors parted open and, before stepping out, Roger turned to look Hani in the eye. He swore the expression he was met with was definitely _not_ on the professionalism spectrum.

On the third day, Marwan went inside the room, interrupting Hani's walk. He leaned in to whisper in Hani's ear, the message spoken in a hushed voice and its phrasing unclear, yet one name was uttered loud enough so that it could be unmistakably heard. It was the name of someone not particularly high in the hierarchy but close enough to Al-Saleem's most trusted ones to be important. That was the old hierarchy, of course, so now Al-Saleem's most trusted ones must be at the top. What Hani and Marwan were _implying_ was that they had captured the mentioned person or uncovered his location, thus getting one step closer to the top– even though they had accomplished neither. Hani whispered something back to Marwan and they left.

The whole setting told Roger two things. The first was that Hani believed the individual he had in his hands was more than a mid-level ranking one. The second was that the guy on the other side of the mirror could be the key to finding whomever was in charge of Al-Saleem's contingency plan.

On the fifth day, Marwan came in again, mentioning an even more important name than before. From the seventh day onwards, they started playing recordings of screams down the hall nearly all day long. On the tenth day, Hani briefed Roger on what to say and how to act, then sent him in to play the interrogator. According to the instructions he'd received, Roger remained calm throughout, asking questions in his carefully phrased language school Arabic. His interlocutor repeatedly refused to answer and provoked him at least twice, but Roger had been told not to push. When it was over, he collected his papers, took his folder with him, and exited the room. Hani was waiting.

"Absolutely well played, my dear," he commended.

Roger shrugged innocently. "I was watching closely, so I learned from you, Hani pasha."

The look on Hani's face was one of pure delight.

Meanwhile, Rita and her team of techs in Amman as well as Garland and a female analyst– who was a close friend of Roger's, previously stationed in Islamabad– back at Headquarters were working overtime to gather the intelligence necessary to convince their guy, Ali Ibrahim, that his organization was indeed falling apart and his comrades had betrayed him, having broken in the hands of ruthless GID interrogators. They, also, needed the intel for other uses. In their research, they came across some very useful photos of members of the organization, obtained from fake passports, as well as additional information by going through overlooked files and tips the CIA had received from friendly intelligence services in the immediate aftermath of 9/11.

On the fourteenth day, Ali was brought to the interrogation room again. Hani, accompanied by Marwan and two more members of his security detail, walked inside– impeccably dressed and as confident as ever– and sat opposite the prisoner at the table, carefully placing a manilla folder at the center of the smooth cold metallic surface. Roger was watching the exchange through the one-way mirror and listening in via the microphone, like he'd done on the first day.

Hani, at first, didn't ask any questions. He opened the folder and took out photographs of Ali's comrades, laying them one by one before Ali, and reciting each person's history of involvement with Al Qaeda. Out of those, the most high ranking ones, Hani informed Ali, had already been captured or killed. (The fearsome intelligence chief offered a very descriptive account of how, where, when– a well crafted fictitious account, of course, that of the hunter who has studied extensively their prey.) The others, the lower ranking ones who were still alive and in captivity, had betrayed him while subject to interrogation. Only their leader remained at large but, with the GID aggressively hunting him down, his ultimate defeat was fast approaching. Lastly, Hani showed Ali a photograph of himself, telling him everything he knew about his life and how he had joined. This demonstration of knowledge was to prove nothing could be kept a secret from Hani within the borders of his own country. As a result, Hani concluded, Ali's loyalty to his organization was essentially meaningless.

Hani claimed all he needed at this point was a tiny bit of info to locate the leader and send his Special Forces team there. Which would happen regardless of Ali's cooperation. However, in case he chose to remain loyal to his disappearing organization, Hani warned him he had no reservations of harming him or going after his family. Like he had done with Ali's comrades, Hani showed Ali pictures of his family– his parents and brother, his wife and little daughter.

By this point, Ali had become very talkative, accusing Hani of being worse than an infidel and slurring other insults at him too, in a fit of rage. He even made to grab for Hani's suit, but his restraints would not allow him to. Hani didn't even flinch; Roger thought his ability of self-control and keeping calm was remarkable. Hani just looked amused, his contained smile showing teeth just enough to be threatening.

Then, he stood up, smoothed out his expensive, well-tailored, dark blue suit and exited the room, followed by his men, not bothering to collect any of the photographs or have his men do it for him. (Nor did any of them cast another glance upon Ali or otherwise acknowledge him, as if he were dust, a very insignificant, disgusting molecule of dirt Hani was dusting off his lapel.) He just left the other man there, thinking, doubt splitting his head in two and Hani's deceit clouding his judgement.

It took the entire day for Ali to break, but the important part is– Hani was right– he did break in the end, with just the right amount of pressure applied. So, now they had the name of the person they'd been looking for.

~*~

After the sun had melted into shades of orange, purple, and pink, Amman was wrapped up in a thick veil of darkness. The moon was not up in the sky tonight, but the stars were shining with a pale yellow light. There was a thin mist of clouds gathering and a faint red glow on the horizon. On the GID premises, the signature black flag was flapping ceaselessly with the wind, with a clear warning written on it in white Arabic letters: _justice has come_.

"His name is Samir Cassim," Roger tapped his curled index finger against the projection board. He was once again standing before the large table in the Jordanian Intelligence main conference room, briefing the usual suspects on the recently obtained information, which they had managed to extract from the prisoner. "He studied in Jordan, then moved to Saudi Arabia to work as a computer engineer. He also did some additional studies there and that's where he first met Al-Saleem. In the following months, he traveled to Europe and Syria, where it is alleged that he met with Al-Saleem, getting deeper into the organization and climbing up the ranks. Then, two years ago, he returns to Jordan and, after this point, his tracks are lost. When he reappears, well, I think every person in this room knows the story..."

"Impressive," commented Tara, flipping through the files. She turned to Hani: "Did you obtain all this through interrogation?"

"Well," Hani tried not to look too smug, aware that what he was about to say wasn't all that flattering to his image– what with the ‘fingernail factory’ and other similar rumors going around–, "our interrogation of the prisoner certainly confirmed some of our suspicions based on information previously provided by clandestine informants".

"Are you talking about that amateur conman?" Rita asked, "Karami?"

"Yes, that is correct, Miss Rizzo."

"So you had the information all along," Rita concluded, before wondering: "Why the fuss?"

"My dear," Hani replied in a patiently polite tone, "you must understand, Karami is not this high-ranking. The glimpses and whispers he catches could be incorrect or disseminated with the intention to mislead. Moreover, he cannot run around asking questions as this would raise suspicion and compromise his cover".

"You wanted to check the validity of the information given to you by Karami, then." Rita said matter-of-factly. Even Tara was looking less impressed.

Roger was wondering what Aisha's opinion might be. He had partaken in far more brutal interrogations than just psychological torture in the past, yet this one– the moment Hani showed Ali pictures of his wife and daughter threatening to harm them; because he could and perhaps would do it– had been such an unsettling experience Roger might go as far as call it traumatizing.

Rita sighed softly, then proceeded to uncap the pen she was holding between her index and middle finger and open the manilla folder in front of her to jot down notes. "In the hands of either the GID or the CIA," she remarked with the kind of honesty that could be both commendable and shocking– depending on which light you saw it in–, "he's not the first prisoner to be tortured". The undeniable truth in her statement made Roger inwardly shudder.

~*~

After the briefing, Hani invited Roger and Rita for a drink in his house to talk in a more relaxed atmosphere and catch up on personal matters. Aisha was working the night shift that night and Roger didn't feel particularly inclined to spend all the remaining hours to daybreak– when Aisha would return– alone in their apartment. How could Aisha stand this kind of loneliness every time he got held up in the office and didn't return until the first light of morning?

Rita– although she rarely made after-work plans, usually preferring to return to her apartment and and stay on her laptop finishing the day's paperwork well past midnight– hesitated a little but ended up accepting. Despite her dislike of alcoholic drinks, she knew Hani bought only top quality and should she decide to drink she wouldn't say no to such a tempting offer. It didn't take a lot of effort for Roger to persuade her.

So here they were now, in Hani's office, taking small sips of their drinks and talking or simply enjoying the silence in each other's presence. Hani's office– much like any other room they'd seen of his house– was enormous. The door was heavy, made of oak and elaborately adorned, as was every other piece of wooden furniture in the room. On the one side, there was Hani's desk, with two leather chairs before it. Behind the desk, there were a bookcase and various shelves. On the far end of the office, there were a couch, a low coffee table, and two armchairs. A crystal chandelier was hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. Portraits of Hani's grandfather and father– who had also served as GID chiefs at some point in their careers– as well as photographs from Hani's days as a college student in England and later his servitude in the Jordanian army were lining the walls.

Roger took a few looks around in amazement but smiled and said ‘thank you’ when Hani handed him his drink and then focused his attention on the host, not wanting to be caught staring. Rita, on the other hand, seemed perfectly comfortable in her surroundings, considerably less tense than while at work, and much quieter, sleepy almost. Her uncharacteristic calmness made Roger wonder. _Had she been here before? If so, did she come here often?_

Hani asked about Aisha. Rita instantly straightened up in her seat, her eyes lighting up with interest. It annoyed him, people trying to find out whether there was a baby on the way and the sly tactics they used to inquire about it indirectly. She was fine, he replied, was working late in the hospital, and was sending them greetings. They were sending their greetings too. The conversation changed subject and moved on.

At some point, the silence– they had stopped talking– was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Roger glanced sideways at Hani, surprised. "Come in," said Hani. His face split into a grin when, a second later, the large oak door opened to reveal a young, brown-haired woman with a toddler girl in her arms. _So this must be Hani's wife_, Roger deduced. He had never seen her before, not from afar in downtown Amman, not even in a photograph, **never**. Hani kept his personal life separated from his professional career. With all the people who wanted to get close to Hani and those plotting to destroy him it made sense why. He risked a quick glance at Rita. If she'd been here before, she hadn't met Hani's wife. In fact, she looked as if she'd been doubting the woman's mere existence. Roger felt much the same; he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to disrupt you," Hani's wife apologized to Hani, but, judging by the sheepish nod she gave them, the other two figured it applied to them as well.

"No, don't worry about it. We were just talking. Nothing important, really," Roger took the initiative of speaking for them both. Rita's expression said she agreed. The woman smiled, a polite smile but reserved.

"Fatma, these are Rita and Roger. We work together. Rita, Roger meet Fatma, my wife," Hani introduced them. Fatma bowed her head respectfully but made no move to offer her hand as she was still holding the child.

Roger and Rita said they were very pleased to meet her. She smiled sheepishly again. Rita thought she was a good match for Hani– despite their marriage most likely being one of convenience rather than love. Fatma was kind, she balanced out the unpleasant aspects of Hani's personality. Then, Fatma turned to Hani, the baby in her arms having begun to fuss.

"She wanted to say goodnight to her daddy," she told him in Arabic. Hani extended his arms to take the girl and the little one happily settled in his lap. His love for the small child was obvious but– like most things Hani did or felt– not expressed in an excessive or overwhelming manner, under total control.

"What's her name?" Roger asked, winking at her, trying to catch her attention.

"Maryam," Hani responded. His wife sat next to him on the couch. Immediately, his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand finally resting on her lower back, but, despite the affectionate gesture, their relationship seemed to be based on something more profound than passion.

Maryam was ignoring Ferris, unimpressed by his funny faces. _So much like her father_, he thought. She was staring at Rita with curiosity, but Rita was unwilling to return her interest.

"Don't all men want sons?" Rita asked Hani teasingly, after Maryam had fallen asleep and Fatma had left to put her to bed.

Hani smiled, lighting a cigar. "My dear, Rita," he said in a– oh, how ironic given the subject of discussion– patronizing tone, "when Maryam was born, two and a half years ago, I already had two sons. I was very satisfied with myself."

Rita rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Men."

"You had two sons?" Roger asked, perplexed, "I mean, yes, I've heard that somewhere but... From Fatma? It's a little strange because– don't give me wrong– she looks very young."

"Oh, no. They're not from Fatma. Maryam is my only child with Fatma."

Rita leaned close to Roger and lowered her voice, as if gossiping in hushed whispers during a formal party, "Hani's married twice under Sharia Law".

With all his studies in the Arabic language and culture and mainly because he knew how demanding and self-centered Hani could get, Roger was only mildly shocked by the information. He shrugged. "If he manages..."

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I wrote this chapter after seeing Zero Dark Thirty, hence the interrogation theme. I may or may not have toyed with the idea of including a waterboarding scene. But the Yemen incident is mentioned so...
> 
> 2\. In the novel, Roger ordered the interrogation of a captive in Yemen. The captive was beaten up so brutally that he died. While preparing to launch their big plan with Hoffman, Roger is briefly under investigation for that incident. The investigation is not included in the movie; shots of the Yemen interrogation are.
> 
> 3\. Hani being married twice is inspired by [this fic](/works/14813300).
> 
> 4\. Rita thinks Hani's marriage to Fatma is one of convenience. Actually, Hani helped Fatma heal from the trauma of an abusive relationship and Fatma helped Hani resolve some internal conflicts. (I really hope one day I will get to write that story or, at least, write it into another story.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, take a moment to write a comment and tell me what you liked (or didn't). I especially want to hear your opinions on Rita. Thanks for reading!


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